


Like A Goddess You'll Be Kissed

by Thistlerose



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Five Times, Kissing, Multi, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six people Nyota Uhura totally wanted to kiss, and five people she actually did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Goddess You'll Be Kissed

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the classic episode "Plato's Stepchildren," which completely skeeved me. These are five totally voluntary kisses for Lieutenant Uhura. Beta read by Boosette.

**pleasantly surprised**

Honestly, Uhura was disappointed when Doctor McCoy offered to go with her on her walk by the lake. She didn't know him well. They were both relatively new to the _Enterprise_, and he already had a reputation as a bit of a grouch. It was Uhura's first shore leave in ages, and she'd been looking forward to some time alone in a lovely setting.

But she wasn't sure how to say that without coming across as a bit of a grouch herself. So she told him that that would be fine, and secretly hoped that at some point on their walk, he'd find something to distract himself and leave her in peace. It could happen; he'd mentioned something about some native water plant that could be steeped into a tea that was supposed to ease joint inflammations.

"Isn't there a hypospray for that?" Uhura asked him as they made their way slowly along the shore.

"There's a hypo for just about every damn ailment known to man," the doctor replied. He walked with his hands clasped behind him, his frowning gaze on the sky. He was lucky the shore was mostly free of rocks and fallen tree branches and other things that could trip him, she thought. "But sometimes you don't have a hypo, and then you have to rely on your knowledge of good, old-fashioned remedies."

"That sounds like something my grandmother would say," Uhura found herself telling him, "at family gatherings. She'd tell us kids that she could stuff us full of vitamin pills, or we could eat our veggies and go outside to play."

McCoy laughed. "Sounds like my kind of woman."

Candidly Uhura thought, while she'd never consider him handsome, he was a little more attractive when he frowned, but she preferred it when he smiled.

He turned out to be fairly good company, rather to her surprise. He didn't talk all the time – which she appreciated – and when he did talk, he seemed genuinely interested in her area of expertise. "Well, communications is important," he said at one point. "It's good to know languages and nuances of tone, stuff like that. I'm always afraid the universal translator'll short out on me. What if that happens when I'm trying to treat a patient who doesn't speak my language? I don't trust some of our technology," he confided. "Much rather have a person I can interact with. Sure, people are fallible, but they're not immune to a stern glare."

"I think it depends on the person," Uhura replied, amused.

"True enough. I could glare at that Vulcan first officer all day and he wouldn't so much as bat an eyelash.

"And sometimes," she went on, to divert his attention from Commander Spock, whom she liked quite a lot, "technology can be a convenient scapegoat. A gaffe can easily be blamed on a hiccup in the universal translator." She gave him a sideways smile.

"Really?" He sounded intrigued. "Lieutenant, are you telling me you've deliberately insulted some – some dignitary, or whatever, and blamed it on a glitch in the universal translator?"

"Well," she said airily, "he was only a dignitary's secretary, and believe me, he deserved what he got."

"I think I'll try to stay on your good side," McCoy said.

"I think that would be a good idea," she replied.

At the end of the day – and they really did spend all day by the lake, walking and talking, or sitting and talking, gathering his water plants, eating the snacks she'd packed – he turned to her, caught one of her hands in his, and brought it to his lips. It was an entirely unexpected gesture, and it made her blush like a young girl. His eyes, she couldn't help noticing, were about the same color as the twilit lake.

Knowing nothing would come of it – he wasn't really her type, for one thing, and she didn't believe in shipboard romances – she impulsively grasped his forearms and pulled him down for a kiss.

As kisses went, it wasn't the best; his height and her lack thereof made for an awkward angle, and her lips didn't quite land where she'd wanted – closer to the corner than dead center. But he seemed pleasantly surprised (well, who wouldn't be?) and it put a seal on what had turned out to be quite a fine day.

 

**custom dictates**

"Hey," said Kevin Riley, sidling up to her at the bar, "good party, huh? Just saw the captain leave with a gorgeous brunette in blue. Any idea who she is? More punch?"

"Are you offering or requesting?" Uhura asked him with a smile.

"Offering," he said. "Think I've had enough, and I've got alpha shift tomorrow." As if his flushed cheeks and shining brown eyes were not enough to grant his words veracity, he hiccupped loudly.

Her smile deepened. She'd often suspected Riley had a small crush on her, one she neither encouraged nor returned, even though she found him adorably puppyish. Then again, she had the feeling _he_ wasn't aware of his crush; if he were, she didn't think he'd flirt quite so much or so transparently.

Aware suddenly that she'd been silent and he'd been gazing, she said, "Oh, no thanks. I've had enough too. And no, I don't know who the brunette was. I only caught a glimpse myself as they were leaving."

"That was Doctor Helen Noel."

The information came from Yeoman Janice Rand, who'd been standing a couple of meters away, holding a small plate of marzipan.

"Ah," said Riley, who'd clearly never heard of Noel, or didn't remember her. Uhura was pretty sure they'd been introduced at some point, though they must have had very little interaction since. Noel was a psychologist, or a psychiatrist, wasn't she? "Well, anyway," he went on, oblivious to the hunch of Rand's shoulders or the way the corners of her mouth crimped, "the captain's a lucky fella. Hmm, mind if I…?" Indicating the marzipan.

"Oh, take it all," said Rand, thrusting the plate at him. Then she turned from them in a swirl of blond hair and short red skirt, and stalked away.

"Wha' was tha' all abou'?" Riley asked around a mouthful of marzipan. He offered her the plate.

She took a small piece and popped it into her mouth. She took a few moments to savor the sweet almond taste before replying. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Hmm. Yeah, I guess. Wonder if the captain knows."

Uhura shrugged. "I think Rand's too smart to let on in front of him." Curiously she added, "What do you think of her?"

"Janice Rand? She's pretty."

"Just pretty?"

"Yeah. Not as pretty as you," he added in a tone that made her want to pat him on the head, "but pretty. She has the most interesting hair of any woman on the _Enterprise_."

"Oh, Kevin." She wondered if she could divert his crush somehow, before he became cognizant of its existence. He and Janice Rand would make a cute couple, she thought. He was a more suitable object of her affection than Captain Kirk, and her tartness – with its underlying warmth – might be good for him. Rand was a few years older than Riley, but that might not bother him, considering her prettiness and her interesting hair.

She touched his arm. "Wait here a minute," she said. Clearly mystified, he nodded, and she set out in search of Rand.

There were still plenty of people in the rec hall, despite the fact that it was late. She knew that many of them did not celebrate Christmas or any of the other traditional Earth holidays that fell on or near the winter solstice, but who could resist a chance to mingle and enjoy non-synthesized food and drink? Weaving among bodies, smiling politely but shaking her head when someone tried to engage her in conversation, she kept her eyes open for the yeoman.

Uhura finally glimpsed Rand – the conical top of her hair, to be precise – by the door. Hurrying, pushing past revelers – she nearly crashed into Scotty, who grinned and raised his drink in silent salute – she caught up with her just before she left the rec room, grasped her by the arm, and pulled her back in.

Rand looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Lieutenant Uhura?" she said uncertainly.

"Hey, Lieutenant! Yeoman!" someone called.

They both turned. Yeoman Tonia Barrows was looking at them, her lips curved in a smirk, but she was pointing to something above their heads. They glanced up.

Mistletoe. Of course.

And of course, Barrows's shout drew the attention of others.

"This wasn't the reason," Uhura began in an undertone.

"I didn't think it was," Rand replied. Her tone was dry, but mischief gleamed in her blue eyes. "What're we going to do? Do you think they deserve a show?"

"Forget them," said Uhura, deciding rather abruptly that Riley could figure things out for himself. It had been a good long while since that kiss by the lake with Doctor McCoy and, objectively speaking, Yeoman Rand was _quite_ pretty. Besides, she looked as if she could use a good kiss.

So, her hand still on the other woman's arm, Uhura leaned in. Rand's lips met hers, and if the kiss was a little hesitant at first, well, it didn't last. The hesitance, that was. The kiss was long and sweet, and tasted of vodka punch and marzipan.

They got a few catcalls and wolf whistles, but that, Uhura thought smugly, was just what jealous people did.

 

**maybe under different circumstances**

"My father is going to kill me," Prince Adarion of Valera sulked, not for the first time, as he led them down the winding passages that ran beneath the palace.

"He will not," McCoy muttered through his teeth, "unless he was lying about you being his only heir."

"For once, I concur with the doctor," Spock put in. "While your father the king does seem highly volatile, it is unlikely he would retaliate by murdering you. To do so would be most illogical."

"I'll remember that," said Adarion, "while he's trying to bash my head in with his scepter after finding your cells empty."

"You're going to have to stand up to him sooner or later," said Kirk. "You're an adult, or almost. Maybe it's time to start acting like it."

"And get your own damn scepter," added McCoy.

"Listen to them, Adarion," Uhura advised him gently. "It's good advice." _Even if it doesn't quite sound that way,_ she thought.

Adarion sighed and gripped her hand more tightly. "I wish _you_ wouldn't go, lady. I'm sure that if _you_ were my mate, I would find the courage to—"

"We discussed this," said Uhura. "The answer's still—"

"I know, I know," he said glumly. "Still, when you're back among the stars, I hope you'll always remember that someone on Valera thinks you're the loveliest, rarest jewel ever to…"

He went on for some while, and Uhura concentrated very hard on Commander Spock, since _he_ at least had the courtesy not to snicker behind his hand.

Eventually, they reached the end of the passageway. They stepped out into fresh air and starlight, and found themselves face to face with a pair of armed palace guards. Kirk's hand went instantly to his belt, but froze as he apparently remembered the king had confiscated their phasers before tossing them all into cells.

"Prince Adarion," said one of the guards. "We're so pleased to find you unharmed."

"Unharmed…?" echoed Adarion. Then, as Uhura watched him with apprehension, he blinked. "Oh, no, you've got it backward! The _Enterprise_ crewmen haven't kidnapped me. I'm letting them go. If you'll step aside…"

The guards hefted their weapons: short spears topped with jagged blades. Uhura wished Adarion would let go of her hand. She didn't like the looks of those spear-things, but surely the four of them – plus the prince, if he decided to help – stood a chance.

"Are you really going to disobey your prince?" Kirk demanded. "Your king's only heir?"

The guards looked puzzled. "Is the prince actually giving an order?" one of them asked.

"Er," said Adarion.

McCoy gave him a withering look. Spock remained inscrutable. Uhura patted his hand.

"Er. Yes?" said Adarion.

Silence.

"Yes, what?" Uhura whispered.

"Yes," Adarion said in a firmer tone. "I order you to stand down. The _Enterprise_ crewmen are allowed to leave and they're not to be harmed in any way."

She wished he hadn't added, "Um, all right?" but the guards did lower their weapons and step aside, so she supposed it didn't matter.

"Thank you," said Uhura. "You're going to make a wonderful king someday."

"I wish—" Adarion began.

"No," she said.

"Oh, well."

He looked so dejected, she couldn't help herself. In the instant before Scotty beamed her, Kirk, McCoy, and Spock off Valera, she kissed his cheek.

When they rematerialized on the transporter pad, Kirk and McCoy were snickering again.

"I fail to see the humor of the situation," Spock remarked.

"That's because you're the only one with a lick of sense," said Uhura.

"Come on, Lieutenant," said Kirk, actually dabbing his eyes with his knuckles. "Tell us why you didn't accept the prince's offer. It was his snout, wasn't it?"

"I think it was the tail," chuckled McCoy.

"Or the fact that he was half-covered in orange hair."

"Or the fact that he was barely four feet tall."

Scotty was watching them in bemusement.

"I still fail—" Spock began.

"No," said Uhura primly, pointing to the captain and the doctor, "_they_ fail."

 

**a love that's innocent**

She found Spock in his quarters aboard the newly commissioned _Enterprise A_. He set down his datapad when she entered, swiveled away from his desk, and laid his hands on his knees. His dark gaze flicked from her face to the cloth-wrapped thing in her arms, then back. "Lieutenant," he said by way of greeting. She also detected a note of curiosity in his tone.

"Just thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing," she said. "You haven't decorated."

"No. It seems that, following my death, my things were sent to my mother on Vulcan."

Only Spock, Uhura thought, could say something like 'following my death' with such blandness. He was definitely himself again, or almost.

"While there was time," he went on, "to retrieve them before our departure from Vulcan, it seemed…"

"What?" she pressed gently when he trailed off. "Illogical?"

"I do not know," he said with just a touch of perplexity.

She wanted very badly to give him some sort of reassuring gesture – a touch on the hand, a kiss on the forehead, anything. But she said, "I think I understand, at least a little bit. Do you remember the Nomad probe?"

A line appeared between his eyebrows. It disappeared a moment later as he said, "Indeed."

"Well, you weren't there when it happened, but it erased my memories because…" She pursed her lips briefly. All these years, and it still rankled. Though it could have been worse: the probe had vaporized a few security officers and electrocuted Scotty, though he'd only been dead a few minutes. "It didn't like my singing. Doctor McCoy and Nurse Chapel were able to restore my memories, but for a while I felt disoriented, especially in my own room. It was full of things I'd owned my entire life. Or things I'd picked up on planets we explored. Things with _meaning_. But… because of the lapse in my memory, for a while anyway, they didn't feel like _my_ things. I'd look at them and I'd get angry. It was like they belonged to another life. I don't mean our situations were the same," she went on quickly, though his expression hadn't changed in the slightest. "I know you wouldn't get angry. I just mean… I think I understand why certain things didn't seem important, or didn't seem like they were _yours_, so soon after…" What? Your resurrection? Your rebirth? If a person's soul survived – as Spock's had, in Doctor McCoy – was he ever really dead?

"I understand that you are trying to help," Spock said with perfect equability. "It is appreciated."

She hoped it was. She hoped he'd picked something useful out of her rambling. "I thought this might help too," she said, setting the bundle carefully on his desk and removing the protective cloth wrapping. It was his lyre.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, "that I didn't send it with the rest of your things. You let me borrow it so many times that I thought…"

"It is quite all right, Lieutenant." He had turned to the instrument and appeared to be contemplating it solemnly. He lifted a hand, but let it remain suspended, the long fingers half-curled.

The sight of him made her heart ache and again she wished she could cover his hands with hers or touch her lips to his forehead. In another life – one where she was surer of herself and where he hadn't journeyed so far beyond her imagination – she might have, she thought.

Without looking up, Spock said, "There was a song you used to sing… on the bridge of the old _Enterprise_, and in the rec room."

"I used to sing a lot," Uhura said, "but I bet I know the song you mean:

_The skies are green and glowing  
Where my heart is…_"

She was out of practice. Her voice was like a dry wind in her throat, and she imagined the words floating from her lips like cracked and crumbling autumn leaves. Still, as she watched, a corner of Spock's mouth curved upward ever so slightly, and his fingertips brushed the lyre's graceful neck.

So she kept singing:

"_I'll be back though it takes forever  
Forever is just a day.  
Forever is just another journey  
Tomorrow a stop along the way._"

And after a time he joined her tentatively. He was rusty too, more so than she, and the lyre was out of tune. She'd meant to do something about that, but between retrieving his body and reconnecting it with his soul, going back to Earth of the 1980s to save the whales, and preparing for her court martial, there simply hadn't been time.

If he minded or even noticed, he made no indication. And they did achieve a kind of harmony, one that was no less sweet for being broken.

 

**something old, something new**

At the shriek, Uhura and Sulu stopped their conversation and glanced up. But it was only young Demora. As they watched, what had happened became clear; Chekov had been attempting to teach her and one of her friends the steps to a dance – the Troika, Uhura supposed, given their number and the music's tempo – and the two girls had gotten tangled up somehow and ended up sprawled on the grass. She laughed at Chekov's expression; he was trying much too hard to appear stern, and it wasn't working.

"She's such a klutz," Sulu said with affection. "She doesn't get that from me."

Uhura laughed. "But she can pilot a starship."

"Damn right." His voice fairly oozed with pride.

By that point the girls had regained their feet. Demora's friend looked eager to try again, but Demora herself kept glancing over her shoulder, as if hoping for a rescue.

Uhura touched Sulu's arm. "Maybe you should…"

But at that moment, Felipe, Demora's brand new stepfather, came striding across the lawn. He said something to Chekov, who grinned and made a "sure, go ahead" sort of gesture. Then he very gallantly offered Demora his arm. She couldn't take it fast enough. The band began to play a cha-cha, and all parties seemed satisfied.

"You chose well," Uhura said, not for the first time that afternoon.

"I did," Sulu agreed, watching his daughter and husband. "I searched long enough, that's for sure."

Uhura cocked her eyebrow at him. "You're feeling old? _You_?"

"I didn't say that. I don't feel old, even with a daughter about to graduate from Starfleet Academy. Maybe if I hadn't been given command of the _Excelsior_…"

"Are you implying that _I_ ought to feel old? And Pavel, and the rest of us still on that relic, the _Enterprise_? You know," she went on wistfully, before he could formulate a denial, "I do sometimes. Which is silly, I know. I'm not even sixty. I don't plan to retire once the _Enterprise A_ is decommissioned next year. The Xenolinguistics Department at the Academy has been sending me information. As has Starfleet Intelligence." Just saying _that_ gave her a little thrill of pride. Good to know _someone_ realized she was more than just a bridge ornament who opened and closed hailing frequencies.

"I just…" But she never completed the thought. The band segued into a lively rumba, and Demora gave another girlish shriek. This time, fortunately, her partner – still Felipe – had her well in hand and her dress was spared further grass stains. A little ways away, Chekov and Demora's friend were still dancing.

Uhura jutted her chin in their direction. "Do you think she realizes he's twice her age?"

"Possibly." But Sulu sounded doubtful. After a moment he shrugged. "Big brown eyes are big brown eyes, I guess."

"Hmm. Do you see any big brown eyes in my future?"

"Pavel's?"

"Anyone's." She was thinking about Scotty, actually. She kept telling herself she should be grateful he'd been such a gentleman and ignored the pass she'd made while under Sybok's influence. She kept telling herself she should be embarrassed about the incident; twenty years ago, she doubtless would have been. Now, without a blush, she contemplated his dark eyes, his smile, and the way his accent turned technobabble into something almost lyrical.

"I thought you didn't believe in shipboard romances," Sulu said, gently teasing.

"I don't. But I won't be shipboard _that_ much longer."

"To paraphrase Doctor McCoy, I'm a captain, not a fortune teller. But," he went on, turning to retrieve his fluted champagne glass and raising it in a toast, "here's hoping."

Uhura clinked her glass against his, and they both drank. The champagne had gotten warm and flat in the San Francisco sunshine, but it still made her feel a little giddy. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'm so happy for you, Hikaru," she said sincerely. "For Demora, the _Excelsior_, Felipe…"

He caught her chin and gently turned her face so he could kiss her back. "Yours will come, Nyota."

Would it, though?

To hide her uncertainty, she grabbed his arm. "Come on," she said. "Let's show these young people how it's done properly. I'm dying to dance."

 

**sit by my side and let the world slip / we shall ne'er be younger**

"Are we the last ones?" Uhura asked as she entered the transporter room. She hadn't seen any other crewmen as she'd made her way down the _Enterprise A_'s corridors.

"For beaming, aye," Scotty said. "Captain Kirk, Mister Spock, and Doctor McCoy are around somewhere. They'll be taking a shuttle down to the planet."

"It's a strange feeling, isn't it?" Uhura said, setting her duffel bags down and leaning against his console. "The emptiness, I mean. She isn't such an old ship. She isn't even that outdated."

"She's nae outdated at all!" Scotty said, and his sheer indignation made her laugh. "She could fly circles around the _Enterprise B_."

"Only because the _Enterprise B_ isn't quite finished yet."

"Aye, there's some truth to that." With a sigh, Scotty slumped in his chair. But his dark eyes twinkled. "All the same, a ship hasnae got a soul till she's got a crew. Oh, I know about this new Captain Harriman," he went on with a dismissive wave, "and I hear Mister Sulu's daughter'll be at the helm. But until you've flown at least one mission with her, until you think of her as home, you're not _really_ part of her crew, and you're certainly not part of her soul."

"Scotty…" His words touched something in her, a piece of her heart she'd striven to ignore these past few weeks. It hadn't seemed right to waste time wondering about her own future when the future of the United Federation of Planets and the Klingon Empire was in jeopardy. Now, however…

"Aye, lass?" he said, and something in his tone and his smile made her feel like a young girl. What was it?

She studied him for a moment before deciding that it was eagerness. He was leaving his beloved ship, but he couldn't be sad because he was ready for something new. And so was she.

She pushed away from the console and slid onto his lap. Wrapping her arms around his bulky shoulders, she tilted her head back and kissed him on the mouth. His jaw dropped in surprise, but that was fine; it made her exploration easier. And he recovered quickly enough. His arms wound about her waist and he hitched her closer. He kissed her back with the vigor of a man at least twenty years younger. His mustache tickled.

"I wish we'd done this before," Uhura said when they finally broke apart. She rested her head against his shoulder.

"It wouldnae hae been right," said Scotty, stroking her thigh every bit as tenderly as she'd sometimes seen him stroke the ship's nacelles. "With you under Sybok's influence…"

"I meant before that."

"Ah." Then, with just a trace of regret he said, "Aye. I wish that too."

Could they have? Uhura wondered. She'd had her policy and there'd been that ongoing joke that Scotty could never love a woman the way he loved his ship. Take away the ship…

Around them, the _Enterprise_ hummed a farewell tune.

_… And we still have the future,_ Uhura thought.

9/9/09


End file.
